April Fools
by Orion'sProdigy
Summary: It's not Molly's fault she likes to be clean...April Fool's Day shenanigans and a tad of not-quite-Sherlolly.


She hummed happily as she dried her freshly washed hands, tossing out the last of the trash from her last patient; she was ready to go home.

Molly strode down the hallway, checking the time on her watch, a spring in her step.

_If I hurry up, I'll have enough time to have a proper date…_

"Extra clean today, are we?" one of her co-workers asked, highly amused.

"Must've just washed her hands if she's that happy," another laughed.

"I bet if you ask, one of the chemists would let you use their sanitization shower."

"A hospital is only as clean as its staff," she chided, just shrugging, too excited to be bothered at the moment.

"We'll see," one sniggered behind her back, the others laughing with him, but she didn't hear, or else she might have been more cautious.

A grin tugged at her lips as she entered the locker rooms and she deftly twisted her combination into her locker, yanking it open; she was met with a bucket of some kind of gooey substance, and her reflexes being what they were, stepped back just too late.

She was covered in stinking, oozing sludge; it slid down her back and soaked into her clothes, staining her coat urine yellow, seeping into her skin and giving off the foul smell of a rotting animal.

"Wh-what the-?" she spluttered, wiping it off of her eyes; it was some kind of concoction of several chemicals and maybe some borax to give it the revolting feeling.

"April Fool's!" several voices chanted amidst a chorus of laughter.

Molly bit her tongue, hard. She couldn't bite her lip. Then the sludge would get in her mouth. And she had to bite something, or else the tears pricking at her eyes would overflow.

_This is not funny. At all… I have to… I have to get clean…_

With squelching footsteps, she turned around and took the walk of shame to the ladies' room, doing her best not to show her weakness in front of the others, murmuring simply when people asked, "April Fool's…"

As soon as the stall door closed behind her, she peeled off her clothes as quickly as possible, turning on the one shower in the back corner (it was mainly for people who worked night and morning shifts, but…

She hissed as scalding water cascaded down her back, and hurriedly turned the knob, and then got to work scraping the sludge off of her sin; already it had started drying into a crust.

It was no wonder that she didn't hear her phone, and thus didn't reply to Sherlock Holmes's text.

**Where are you? –SH**

**Molly, I need you to wheel out Mrs. Johnson. –SH**

**Molly Hooper? –SH**

She groaned when she saw her phone, pulling out the spare clothes she kept in her locker miserably.

**Molly? Where are you? –SH**

** Not funny, Molly. –SH**

**Fine. –SH**

The door to the bathroom opened and a set of footsteps crossed the room briskly.

Molly barely had time to register what was going on before the shower curtain was pulled back and she was standing half-naked in front of the consulting detective.

She spluttered and flushed and scrabbled to hold her old lab coat to her front, the new one on the shower floor still, ruined.

"Sh-She-Sherlock!"

The man glanced her up and down once, taking in every detail of her state and surroundings, frowning deeply.

"…an accident in the lab?" he questioned, arching a brow.

"N-no… Please just…. Turn around…" she managed, rather more upset.

"…practical joke, then…" His eyes narrowed and he swept out of the room once more.

Bewildered, frustrated, and embarrassed, she closed the stall door once more and wrung out her clothes, putting them in a plastic bag, and then finished dressing; unfortunately, all she had a fitted black shirt and some slacks.

Pulling on the too short lab coat, she picked up the bag and pocketed her phone, hurrying with her head down back to the safety of her morgue, back to people who didn't (and couldn't) judge.

_I wonder what he's done? Probably working on some experiment with John… or maybe bullied someone else to roll out the body for him…_

Sherlock was nowhere to be seen in the lab, however, despite that his coat remained on the rack.

_Maybe he went to file a complaint? …Can he do that?_

Shaking her head, the woman dropped her bag by her desk, collapsing into her chair; after a moment, she spritzed herself with some of her favorite perfume and rubbed germ-ex all over her hands and up her arms. Once the cleansing was accomplished, she allowed herself one chocolate to try and calm down.

…_What could he be doing? He wouldn't leave the hospital without his coat… _

He returned to the room about an hour later as though he'd never left.

"Mrs. Johnson?"

Molly stood, buttoning her coat self-consciously as she led Sherlock down to the morgue, wheeling out Mrs. Johnson for him.

It was business as usual from then on.

She stretched out her shift longer than usual, not for Sherlock, but so that she could leave after everyone else had; she'd gotten three coffees now, and she knew she'd have to head home soon because if she drank any more coffee, she wouldn't sleep at all.

"…Are you about done, Sherlock?" she asked quietly when he paused in his studying.

"Hm? Oh. Yes. I was thinking," he replied, as though he'd just realized where he was.

Molly nodded once curtly, gathering her things slowly, glancing at the clock slightly worriedly; she wanted to be sure that no one was left from her shift to comment.

Sherlock walked out with her, to her surprise, and no comments were passed.

Automatically, she turned for the stairs, preferring them to the temperamental elevator.

He followed her all the way outside until she got a taxi home.

She wore three layers the next day to work, along with her baggiest pair of pants she owned, wanting to be comfortable; she stopped by the storage closet to grab a new, longer lab coat.

Apparently, the janitor hadn't come into work yesterday and had missed his share of April Fools.

She sighed heavily, glad that the goo had really only gotten the coat, and pulled out her old one as she had the previous day.

It was odd as she walked back to her lab; everyone seemed fidgety, incredibly twitchy. It was as if everyone had ants in their pants.

"…Is everything okay?" she questioned as someone requested that she itch their back (she kept walking).

"I'm so… _itchy_," the man gritted, rubbing his back against the fire extinguisher case.

Frowning, she hurried into her lab, squirting germex onto her hands.

_Is some kind of disease or rash or something going around?_

As she started for the morgue, to check if she had any waiting corpses, something odd caught her eye; a few beakers were sitting in the sink, one with powdery residue and the other with a whit-ish liquid in the bottom.

Oddly, there was a bottle of my cythilicus out on the counter nearby as well, and a packet of senna was beside that.

_Cythilicus is a natural…itching powder… and senna… too much of it… it's a laxative…_

Now, being the clever girl that she was, Molly easily added two and two together, and proved herself correct when she checked.

"Good morning, Molly," Sherlock greeted, leaning against the wall between the entrances to the men's and women's restrooms; he was smirking smugly. "You shouldn't wear two jumpers. Makes you look flatter than usual."

Molly couldn't help her smile, and responded, "Good morning, Sherlock… You think so? I was a bit worried because there seems to be a contagious rash going about."

"Oh? How unfortunate." He pushed off of the wall. "To work, then. Wouldn't want to get infected, now would we?"

She shook her head in agreement, leading the way back to her lab; before he got too into his work, she pecked his cheek.

"Thank you."

Hurriedly, Molly sat at her desk, just in his eyesight (he hated it when friends were out of his sight), and got to work scrawling a few lab reports. After a few moments, she heard the rustling of his return to action.

Her lips pulled back in a small smile.

…_You couldn't find a better friend…_

* * *

**So…yeah. I know I just started a fic and stuff and yeah…once again, I have found myself sidetracked by everything else. I lost my motivation for the Naruto fic I was working on and my sister wanted to write Sherlock fics (the BBC show, of course) and…yeah. So this is co-authored with her. It's also posted under her Wattpad account name of Saphirra98, so don't go yapping at me about copyright…yeah…um…I think that's it. Enjoy and please review if you think it's any good, and even if you don't think it's any good! I want to know! Thanks.**


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